Fetid
by Glinda
Summary: Of smells and memory... 9Doc


fetid \FET-id; FEE-tid\, adjective:  
Having an offensive smell; stinking.

She stood in the doorway of a room she'd never been in before. If she was entirely honest, it was the smell that had drawn her. She'd decided to go exploring through the maze of corridors that made up the TARDIS. Thoroughly lost she'd caught a hint of something undefinable in the air. She'd found herself drawn to it. Following it down the labyrinthine corridors until she reached the strangest set of doors she'd seen anywhere within the TARDIS. They'd have looked right on one of those glass-houses she remembered from a Biology trip to Kew Gardens. Though to be fair standing in the doorway, observing the contents of the room, she could have been in one of the hot houses at Kew. It was a jungle in there.

Literally. Peering upwards she couldn't see even a hint of the ceiling above the towering trees. The heat was intense, the humidity drenching her even before the sweat she could feel prickling could do more than make her aware of its presence. Stepping into the room, she was immediately up to her waist in rich green tropical foliage. The air was alive with the sounds of jungle life. Looking back the door stood alone among trees. The small section of forest visible through the door looked incongruous against the forest that seemed to stretch away on either side of it (and apparently behind it too). She felt almost as though she'd stepped into Narnia and if round the next tree she found an old-fashioned lamp-post she wouldn't have been remotely surprised.

Wandering through the improbable forest, the smell was growing stronger. Even mingled with the other jungle smells. Distracted by the brightly coloured birds and insects that flitted from tree to tree or crawled along over-hanging branches or fronds, she gave little thought to what was causing the appalling smell that had drawn her here. She'd almost forgotten, until she came round a particularly large tree only to be confronted by it's source. A small animal, approximately the size of a dog, though it looked more like a cross between an antelope and an anteater. It was nuzzling the body of a bigger version of itself, presumably its mother, and whining piteously. She stood, frozen in place, as she was hit by a sudden wave of helplessness. The older animal was clearly dead, the cloying, throat-constricting smell alone told her it must have been a while now. Clearly these creatures weren't the only sizeable creatures in this jungle as something has clearly been eating the poor thing earlier. Ants marched across the rotting mound of fur and bone that had once been a beautiful animal, carrying away morsels of meat and fur to feed their colony. Torn between the desire to flee and the desire to do something she stood frozen watching the grieving infant. She wondered why the TARDIS had brought her here.

The creature made a mournful crooning noise that jolted her from her thoughts. Something was moving through the foliage towards them. She tensed preparing to either fight or flee with the small creature, until the Doctor appeared from the undergrowth. He didn't appear to see her at first. Simply crouching down beside the small animal and gently imitating its mournful call. Tipping his head back he uttered the cry again but far louder. For several moments there was no response but then the cries came back and soon several adult creatures emerged cautiously from the undergrowth to investigate. They each took turns to nuzzle their dead fellow, before uttering the mournful cry. Slowly they began to herd the small one (still mewling piteously) away from its mother.

When she looks back at the Doctor he's watching her with that guarded look of his. She meets his eyes and they lock there boring into her. There's dozens of questions she wants to ask. So many that they jam up her throat and stick there. "They live in herds then?" It's all she can find to say and she hates herself for it. He nods in affirmation of her question. He stands up, brushing himself off, breaking the eye contact. He looks around the place and gestures towards where she remembers the door to be. She nods and follows him. As they walk he starts to talk about an old companion of his. Leela. He speaks in slightly disjointed sentences of a girl whose world had been hot, heavily forested and where the people had mistaken him for a god. He tells of her passion, her ferocity, her loyalty, her affinity with the TARDIS, her affection for a robotic dog called K9. Her love for a young Guard of the Capitol on Gallifrey. She's never existed now. Living only in his memories of her. And now she knows. The TARDIS wants him to share this with her. All the little ripples from the time-war. All the small losses that no-one but him remembers. The TARDIS had created this room on a whim for Leela, and she'd loved it. So the TARDIS keeps this room to remember her by. Slipping her hand into his, sharing a smile she feels inexplicably comforted. That as brief as her life seems in comparison to his. Maybe the TARDIS will keep a little bit of her for him to remember. The TARDIS had created this room on a whim for Leela, and she'd loved it. So the TARDIS keeps this room to remember her by. And now she will remember Leela too. 


End file.
